El Diablo Quarter's
by iiLeMoNzZ
Summary: Chris looked down to his feet, afraid to even look in his eye. He couldn't believe this was happening, he really hoped that this was some nightmare in which he'd wake up out of in a minute or two. It was not the case, this was very real – and it WAS happening. The titale is Spanish for "Devil's Playground".


**El Diablo Quarters**

**AN:** So here is my second story, it's a oneshot – if that's okay with you aha. Enjoy anyway and have a nice day. Hopefully my story will not lower your IQ LOL.

**Warnings**: Extreme sadism, torture, gruesome imagery, a few swear words.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Resident Evil or the characters, nor do I make any profit from this.

**Summary:** Chris looked down to his feet, afraid to even look in his eye. He couldn't believe this was happening, he really hoped that this was some nightmare in which he'd wake up out of in a minute or two. It was not the case, this was very real – and it WAS happening.

* * *

Drip... drip... drip...

Chris was roused awake by the torturous and endless sound of the dripping water. He groaned in response to the excruciating pain which suddenly pierced through his brain and spine. He squeezed his eyes shut; now realising he couldn't move his limbs. _'Ugh... what the hell is going on?'._

Drip... drip... drip...

The sound of the water was beginning to vex Chris, tremendously. The stabbing pain in his head was less apparent, although still remained a dull pain. And the tedious dripping sound was not really helping that matter. He seemed to be sitting, in what felt like an operating chair, one you'd find in some cliché horror film. On his wrists, he felt the coldness of what he guessed to be the metal bonds, holding him in place, same with his ankles. He couldn't see anything, the room was pitch black – a small window on the north wall of the room was his only source of light, and wasn't much. It gave light enough to reveal that there was a cell door underneath it. The panic was beginning to set within him, _'what the fuck is going on?'._

Drip... drip... drip...

He had to get the fuck out of here, where ever "here" was. He did not recall how and when he got here, and who had done this to him. Panic and fear began to consume his body now, who the fuck was doing this? In the back of his mind, he knew he had no chance of escaping, he was bound very securely – but it was worth a shot at trying, perhaps he could gain the attention of the prick who done this. Chris began to writhe in the bonds, ferociously, screaming as he did so.

"Aaaaaaarrrgh", he bawled out from the bottom of his lungs. Still struggling, "Help me! Someone! Anyone! Please, somebody help me!".

His struggling seemed not to be getting him anywhere, but his shouting did. He heard footsteps... they were approaching the door, that was located opposite him.

"HELP!", he screamed again.

The cell door suddenly swung open, and a figure of a rather tall man stood in the doorway for a few seconds. Chris could not really see his appearance; it was only the silhouette of the man that was visible to him at the moment. The man then began to walk forward slowly, Chris just watched – not daring to utter a single word.

He proceeded to walk towards the light switch, on the west side of the wall and flicked it. The lights flickered for a while, Chris could tell that this place was abandoned and unoccupied, most likely in a secluded area where no one could trace him, never mind hear his cries for help. A buzzing sound emitted from the light bulb, when it finally decided to stay on for good.

Chris' head darted to the left, to see who this "man" was.

He froze. Mouth gaping, breathing had ceased, eyes wide open in shock. 'No'

"Yes", came the smooth, velvet-like voice from Albert Wesker, and he gave a sinister smirk.

* * *

"H-h-how...?", Chris was beginning to stutter. He mentally slapped himself around the face for allowing his fear to be shown in front of this prick. However, he was dumbstruck by this. The words were not coming out... he was shocked. Shocked at how he managed to survive the events back in the volcano.

"How, what Chris?", Wesker enquired with a raised brow. "How did I manage to survive? How many times must I tell you Chris, this is becoming extremely tedious...", Wesker began to stride his way towards him. He stood in front of Chris, stared down at him for a moment with crossed arms and a wicked smirk. He really did enjoy seeing others fear.

Chris looked down to his feet, afraid to even look in his eye. He couldn't believe this was happening, he really hoped that this was some nightmare in which he'd wake up out of in a minute or two. It was not the case, this was very real – and it WAS happening.

Wesker leaned over him, mouth next to his ear, "I... cannot... die!", he whispered through gritted teeth.

"How did I get here?"

"Now, is that really any concern of yours Chris? You're here now, that's what matters"

"Cut the bullshit Wesker! Just te-"

Chris was silenced by Wesker's iron-like fist colliding with his temple. Fuck! His head was already causing him pain. 'Arrgh'.

"Are you going to do as you're told now, Chris? Or will I have to strike you again, hmm?"

"Y-yes", Chris managed to get out, despite the intense pain he was experiencing. How dare he treat him like this, as if he was a schoolboy – how dare he. Chris daren't say anything against Wesker, with the fear of being hit again. Oh how he wished he were free from these bonds, so he could kick the crap out of him.

"Good boy"

Wesker then made his way over to a small table on Chris' right. From under the table, he acquire a metal briefcase, and opened it – scanning the contents of the case, he smiled in anticipation. Unbeknownst to Chris, this case contained the 'instruments' that he indented to use in order the snuff out his light, painfully and slowly.

"Now, this ought to be fun, eh Chris?"

"Wha-what the fuck are you going to do to me? What's in the case?"

"All in good time Chris", he responded dryly. Bemoaning very irritated by Chris' endless questions.

Looking at the various instruments a lot more carefully now, he pondered on which device he would use on the boy. His eyes rested upon a scalpel... 'ah yes'.

He withdrew to scalpel from the compartment, where it was held, slowly. Chris took in the sight with wide eyes. 'shit, shit, shit'.

Wesker walked over to him, slowly, making every second ever more painful for him. Chris could not contain his fear any longer, as he began to shake. He let out a magnificent scream once again, a piercing scream, which even made Albert Wesker himself flinch.

In order to make this infernal screaming stop, he quickly grabbed his jaw, forcing him to stop, until nothing but a choking sound escaped his lips. "I would suggest you shut up Chris, nobody can hear you". Wesker loosened the tightness of his grip on his jaw now, and then raised the scalpel, so the sharp point was grazing Chris' lip. Chris flinched.

"Now listen here little boy – you can only imagine the pain I endured when you and your little girlfriend left me in that volcano, to burn, to disintegrate..." , he drew the point of the scalpel downwards, making a very thin incision down to chin and neck, then he stopped as it reached his throat. Chris gulped in response to this, hoping he'd just slit his throat and get it over with. However, Chris was not stupid, he knew Wesker would not kill him that quickly – he wouldn't make it so easy, and he'd be very stupid to think so. He'd make this slow and painful.

Wesker continued, "The pain was unbearable, excruciating – even I had begged for death, I had called out to God, begging for him to kill me, take me, bring me away from this pain, this suffering...". Chris gulped, loudly, as Wesker began to put pressure on his throat with the blade.

"Now, I intend to make you do the same Chris... I want you to beg me for death, as I make you experience the pain I was forced to experience. And yes, I want you to beg exactly how I begged. Asking GOD to end you this suffering, this torture. I am God, Chris – your God... and you'll beg just how I did".

He then let out a maniacal laugh, which echoed eerily in this old, isolated building. Chris was completely silent – he was completely speechless. Physically unable to speak, to say anything, to even make a sound of displeasure. He only sat, sat waiting for the worst to happen.

"Aww...", he cooed, "Nothing to say? Cat got your tongue little boy? Well I can assure you that you will not be silent for much longer". He said with a malevolent smirk spreading across his chiselled face.

Unexpectedly, Wesker used the scalpel and tore through the already-tattered shirt that Chris was wearing. He then peeled the remains of the shirt off him, and idly dropped it to the floor. He pressed the small blade in his bare shoulder, making Chris squeeze his eyes shut and grit his teeth, in an attempt not to make any sound. Wesker smirked at this, and pressed the blade in a little deeper until the tiny blade was inserted all the way into his body. He then twisted the scalpel violently, making Chris cry out.

He continued to twist and push the blade, enjoying the sound of Chris' cries of agony.. He pulled the blade out, finally, admiring his handy work – a hole made itself shown in his shoulder blade, gaping, and blood pouring from it. Looked almost like a bullet wound.

Wesker then continued to slash at his bare chest now, leaving huge, deep gashes.

Chris was breathing heavily now, he was in a lot of pain. Unfortunately for him, a tear burned in his eye, threateningly. He tried his damn best to hold that tear in, but he couldn't. The tear welled up in the corner of his eye, before spilling down his cheek. After that, more and more tears followed. Wesker stopped his movements and merely looked at the crying man, and smiled a merciless and cruel smile.

He placed both hands of each side of his face. The tears spilling onto his leather clad hands. Wesker used his thumbs to wipe the tears from the young man's eyes, brought his thumb to his mouth and licked the salty liquid from them. Devouring the taste – devouring Chris' pain, his suffering. Every part of it, he would devour.

"You sick, sadistic son of a bitch!", Chris roared in a fit of rage and pain.

Wesker only ignored his outburst and continued. Picking up the scalpel again, he was scanning the naked torso to see where he'd cut next. He noticed the two brown nipples, 'oh yes, this ought to A LOT of fun'.

With his hand, he pinched the right nipple with extreme force. He pulled at the sensitive skin tissue, which felt as if he were being burnt, Chris screamed again, now writhing in the chair.. He felt as if Wesker would tear the flesh right off his body with the force.

Wesker expected some Chris to hurl out some form of insult, a sarcastic comment. But to his surprise, he didn't. He relieved by this, because he had had enough of this kids' smart ass comments. He had endured years of them.

He grabbed the scalpel once again, and stuck the blade in the sensitive areola again, this time with a lot more pressure and speed, not giving Chris anytime to think. He pushed and pulled the blade in and out, making the burning sensation twice as bad for him. He began to push and pull a lot more vigorously until the handle of the scalpel began to penetrate. The screams coming from Chris were almost... ecstatic... pleasurable.

"PLEASE! Stop it already man! I get it... okay! Just stop, stop please. Kill me now, I beg", Chris shouting between sobs. "Please Wesker! God Damnit! I'm begging like you asked. Just kill me already you sick bastard, isn't this what you want?"

Wesker paused a moment, he laughed under his breath.

"Oh Chris, but why must I stop. I'm just getting started...", he noticed the remains of his nipple, it was hanging by a tiny piece of skin, "And you haven't yet endured the pain I had to, so it would be highly unfair". He grabbed the hanging remain of skin, and tore it off, resulting in a jet of blood to go shooting through the air and landing on Wesker's shirt.

Chris screamed, yet again. His body convulsed as the stinging pain consumed his torso, his whole torso. Wesker slammed a fist into Chris' jaw resulting in some of his teeth to go fluttering out of his mouth and onto the floor.

Chris' mouth gaped open, as the coppery bitter taste invaded his mouth. He tried to get rid of this revolting taste by spitting some of it out on the floor, but to no avail. More blood poured from his gums, only filling his mouth with the crimson liquid again.

"Chris, I may have to do something about those wounds, you will end up bleeding to death. And we wouldn't want that would we, hmm?

Wesker opened up a drawer, and began to rummage through it, searching for his desired object. He then found it, he pulled out a 2 litre bottle, which was filled with rubbing alcohol.

"Hold on Chris, this may sting a little"

He unscrewed the lid on the bottle, as he did so, Chris picked up the smell of the contents. He could smell the alcohol... and he knew this was going to be very painful.

Without using a cloth or anything for that matter, he simply poured the strong smelling substance all over Chris' chest, on his wounds. He poured vast amounts, ensuring the pain would be intolerable. Chris tried to scream, but only managed to gargle, due to all that blood building up in his mouth. He began to cough, consistently. Specks of blood leaving his mouth as he did so.

His top half was now completely drenched with the burning fluid. Whenever the cold, icy air of the room made contact with his wounds, it would cause a discomforting throbbing pain. He only groaned, accepting his fate. He closed his eyes, waiting for the next torture method to be used upon him.

He heard Wesker coming towards him again, which God knows what torture device. He didn't even open his eyes to look.

"Open your mouth", Wesker simply said.

He did not.

"Open your mouth!", Wesker said, voice raised slightly to show his annoyance at Chris' disobedience.

He still refuse, only sat with his eyes closed, sobbing. He then felt the leather glove of Wesker's hand clamped on his jaw, squeezing the already bruised area. He squeezed harder, forcing his mouth open, by putting pressure on his cheeks.

He then inserted the object he was holding, into his open mouth. The object happening to be pliers. Chris still daren't to open his eyes, only to sit back and take it, there was nothing he could do now... it was over.

Wesker closed the pliers down on the tip of Chris' tongue, and used unnecessary force to clamp them down fully, snipping off part of his tongue. Chris' eyes shot open. It took a few seconds, before the pain began to consume him again. He screamed, throat burning from the constant bawling. However, Wesker's hand kept him to moving his head.

Blood pouring down his chin now, like a crimson waterfall, he'd pass out soon, due to the shock and pain. Wesker couldn't have that. He needed him a live for now.

Wesker reached for a metal rod, it was about one metre long, with a pointy sharp end. He left the room for a few minutes, Chris had no idea why. To be honest, he really didn't want to know. He knew he wasn't going to come back with a welcome party and a huge cake.

The cell door was pushed open yet again, and Wesker strode toward him... 'wow, he really must be determined'.

Chris saw that the sharp end of the rod was white hot, he had burned it. Was he going to brand him?

Wesker forced Chris' mouth open for the second time, and shoved the glowing, hot rod into his mouth – trying to prevent anymore blood from escaping from his mouth. Chris let out a muffled yell, as the rod burned his tongue, his gums and his throat. The horrific sound of the hissing from the rod made him bawl louder and louder. Wesker sat on him, straddling his legs, in order to decrease the ferociousness of Chris' violent shuddering. "Keep still now Chris".

Wesker removed the rod from his mouth, and threw it aside carelessly. His chin, lips now black, due to the severe burning. His tongue nothing but ash, same with his gums.

Wesker knew that Chris probably would not have lasted much longer... 'Just one last thing... stay with me now...' he thought to himself.

He quickly made his way over to the silver case again. Drawing out a slick looking dagger. He walked behind Chris, placed a hand on his forward, bringing his head back slightly, positioning the point in front of his eye.

"Goodbye Chris... old friend"

He dug the blade into his eyeball. Using the end of the blade to dispose of the eyeball from his skull onto the floor. He did the same with the other. Crimson tears flowing from his face.

Chris made no sound, not even a grunt, not even a groan... nothing.

"Now, you'll suffer alone, as I did, goodbye Christopher", he simply said before leaving the room.

Chris was shouting after Wesker... he couldn't speak because of the injuries inflicted on his mouth. Despite his incoherent shouting and screaming, Wesker carried on walking, leaving him. All he could do was sit there and cry, cry until he finally died... oh how he wished for death... wished this pain would stop.

'I'm sorry'

-End

* * *

**Author's notes**: Hi guys, Taz here again. I wanted to apologise for my lack of uploads. For my other story as well. I have just been very busy with all this fucking schoolwork, it's a fucking nightmare, I tell you. Plus I have been in and out of hospital, because I slipped on a ham sandwich in my kitchen, and cracked the back of my head open, had to have stitches and all sorts. Anyway guys, thank you for taking the time to read this, sorry if it's a pile of crap, I'm not really used to writing like this. But yeah, if you have the time, please review – I'd appreciate it a lot. If it's crap please tell me aha xD Constructive criticism is very much appreciated also. If you could give me feedback, that'd be amazing! Thank you, again! Tazz


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